


You will still be you.

by Kyzy



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Comfort, Hurt, Other, Parental - Freeform, dissociation warning, mental health, mild blood / gore warning, poetry hybrid, self harm warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyzy/pseuds/Kyzy
Summary: He is Kayn. Everything about him is his, and nothing can change that. Not the mirror and its segmented stare, not the rattling of his own internal thoughts.But by the celestial's above, how he wished...... That he wasn't himself.
Kudos: 23





	You will still be you.

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING; SELF HARM, DISASSOCIATION, BLOOD AND MILD GORE. 
> 
> Written late at night; I wanted to let myself run wild.  
> I don't want to explain it, all I can say is that Rhaast isnt in this fic, and I hope you enjoy!  
> Thank you for any kudos and comments they really make my day!!

* * *

_Are you still you?_

“Of course I’m me,”

Splayed palms against the breadth of his chest, feverish yellow eyes flickering back and forth, unable to catch his own reflections gaze. Pupils widen and constrict, focus and unfocus, the hazy dark highlighting the white of teeth grinding against one another like the plates of the earth until there was an _ache_ in his jaw that climbed down to the base of his throat; an earthquake, the trembling of his frame. What a _tedious_ question. He was huffing and pacing and pacing and huffing, a frustrated beast before a shattered mirror, lit only by waxing moonlight through decrepit thatch. It was a lit stage, a performance piece, the spot-light was on _him_ and he himself was the only audience member to be seen.

“I’m still _me,_ ” Words were bit out but weren’t made of steel, they bent and cracked like branches in a storm, “I still _look_ like me. All over, it’s just _me.”_

Kayn let his fingers follow the groove of his arm muscles, a single thumb delving against the curvature of stark ribs, a quick and panicked turn to observe the ridges of his spine against bruised and dirty skin. Every scar, every inch, every red-flushing fingerprint pressed hard against bone and tissue-- His, it was all _his,_

“It’s _mine,_ it’s all _mine._ ”

_… Then why does it feel like you’re in someone else’s skin?_

The _skin?_ Why-- why! Jagged nails scrape against that very same surface that had been so confidently caressed before and those wild eyes ceased their jumping to hone in against the crinkling at his elbow and the dip at his neck and the white line from the past where his father had burst like lightning into creation to shove him to the ground--

 ** _“You’re bleeding?”_** Zed frowned beside him, propped up on elbows with his chest heaving-- the boy had taken those small fingers to smear the same red that was reflected in the others gaze.

**_“I’ll survive._ ”**

“I’ll survive.”

The mechanical movement of hand-to-mouth held no stutter, it came as fluidly as fluid did to the tongue; a spot here, a spot there, blood filled the young man’s mouth and exited via the curve of his thumb in small trickles as his canines caught the veins hidden vaguely beneath that snowy skin. There was a shower of heavy snorts that saw the red liquid bubble, and tongue curling he growled behind the self inflicted wound in a voice that finally showed the beginnings of threadbare confidence,

“Ih’s mee. Ih’s me.”

That pain was his, that hot blood was his, the way blue and white and red and yellow and purple came together in the yawning abyss of his new wound was _his_ , and that bloody mouth turned upwards into a crooked smile accompanied by stained teeth-- yes, that was his _too._ This face, these long, frazzled locks of hair speckled with mud, the sharp edges of cheek bones framed beneath cattish, honey eyes… the way they glimmered with unshed tears against pinkening corners. Those little lines against the bridge of his nose were displeasure.

_You’re lying to yourself--_

In a flash of movement Shieda shoved his carmine-blossomed fist against the shards of the peasants broken mirror and let the blood flow river-like betwixt the spaces of his fingers. It didn’t hurt. It felt _good,_ the peeling of this foreign skin from his fragile bones, the curling of water against those very same cheek bones from before… they left a trail. A trail that burned away the darkness of ‘him’ and made him feel born anew… a fire starting. The sun dawning.

An attempt to straighten his back saw a stagger; how long had he been standing there, staring at fragments of glass reflecting back at themselves until the image was too minute to see? That was no river or lake- it was the ocean now, cold and frothing and washing up against his boots like algae blooms in red. That skin, that hand, oh how paler it seemed now in that decaying moonlight! A ghostly white, the shadow of a man, _yes_ , _this_ was Kayn, shoulders shaking, eyes wide, haunted, _haunted_.

A touch at his shoulder, another at his wrist; he could not turn and lash out, no, not any more.

“... You hurt your hand.”

That voice was like a hymn to his ears… the saviour was here. The glare of sunlight that could feel both unending and _gentle_ , oh, there was no mistaking those tired eyes, that persistent frown, the way those eyes cut to his soul-- how _disgraceful_ , there was blood staining that perfect skin. It was his… it was _his._ Shieda’s teeth chattered as the wind, quiet and creeping, came to form ice in his throat so that words fell numbly,

“M-My hand… yes,” A dull nod from beneath the curtaining of a wild fringe, eyes falling to the multi-hued floor, “... I’m s, sorry, master. It’s my fault.”

Black shadows stark split the lemon of his eyes, he had to _look_ , had to raise them to meet those unmoving reds that would see beyond seeing. A tentative silence, a hapless gaze. That stare was not settled upon him; it was taking in the threads of his bodies fibre, the unknitting of his hands surface by the way of violent fangs. If he could, if the world would permit him, like that mirror he would shatter into those infinite reflections and become minute as well… unseeable. Untouchable. A world where he was no longer _him_ , for that was a world of escape, of freedom.

_He knows it’s me._

“... It isn’t your fault. Everyone has accidents, Kayn.” Rolling tones so deep that he felt them echoing about his hollow chest. “Let us fix this.”

“I… master?”

“Yes?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“I am… me, yes? I’m n-no-one else?"

Those words were so hard to say. Like cement in the throat, like fire in the mouth. He'd plead for time to turn back, to the moments where he was unashamed to call himself 'Kayn'. Tendons twitched against the air, the floor’s shards half muddied by dried blood, and now those citrine eyes felt like they were covered in tiny little scratches. Every blink. Every flutter. A flickering light; was it growing more and more dim as the seconds wore on? Could there be an escape? Two, three, four, Shieda’s head was palmed by warmth and the growling of his master came as quietly as that horrid breeze.

“You are Kayn, and you’ll always be Kayn.” A single nod, one single pat. “It is your body, your breath and your blood. Nothing can take that from you.”

“How do you _know_ that, master…?”

Five, six, seven. A lean forward, and now there could be no avoiding it. He’d have to _look,_ see himself in the reflection of his master’s eyes, a haggard mess, a pitiful being, he who knew not who he was. No, there could be no breathing now… and there came the image of a battered and bloody body, messy unkempt hair and eyes like a wild hare’s before the wolf. That was him... that is who he was, no longer someone standing in the spotlight but a _child_ caught amidst his own strangeness. The whisper came,

“Because I _know,_ Kayn. With all my heart and mind and soul, I know. Nothing could replace you and nothing ever will. No demon, no little voices, no mirror. I will _always_ know.”

A wavering pause; the sun was setting, and those fires were petered out by rain. Freedom flee'd into the night.

“... I lied, master. It wasn’t an accident. I… _I_ hurt my hand.”

In the tiny shards of glass, uneaten by blood, reflected two shadows upon the wall.

“I know, Shieda… I know.”

_... You're still you,_

_and you will keep having 'accidents',_

_because, by the mirrors and demons and voices_

_there is nothing you can do to change that;_

_You will still be you._

* * *


End file.
